Ignite My Soul
by saeglopurs
Summary: I held tight to the idea we could surpass this. [ft. Daryl Dixon]


Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, it's plot or characters. This will be following the TV series. Some events may be different, but the story will follow the TV skeleton pretty much.

This is a story about adults, acting like adults, doing adult things - it is rated Mature for a reason.

Gracelynne Clarke hasn't seen Georgia since she was a fifteen year old girl. On a whim, she decides to take some time off from work and visit her old home. What is supposed to be a few days away, quickly becomes more. Now Clarke is stuck in the deep south, fighting to keep herself, and Claire, a young tag-a-long who just lost her mother, alive. Clarke wants nothing more than to keep to herself in this new world, but a group of survivors want otherwise.

What Clarke wants is just to survive, but Daryl Dixon wants her to _live_.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to fall into the horizon, and we were just beginning to get somewhere recognizable. Although it was falling into its cradle, I knew that it would be a while before we were fully cloaked. The air had turned to this crisp, leafiness that promised flourished trees and the greenest of grass. With the windows rolled down, and the radio playing some old, soft country tunes, there was a pleasantness that proffered the slightest nostalgia. "Are we there yet?" Claire broke the hum that had settled on us like a welcomed blanket in the crisp cool evening.

I glanced over at her, giving an aggravated shake of my head. "I've told you to stop asking me that." She'd actually been quite for the last half hour, her nose pressed inside one of the _Vampire Academy _books I'd been letting her borrow.

Claire dog-eared the page before stretching in her seat. "Yeah but you said you'd tell me when we're close, we've been driving for like _hours._"

"It hasn't even _been_ an hour since you last asked me," I snapped back, silencing her. I sighed. "We're almost there." She didn't say anything in response, but tucked herself into her seat and looked out the window. We were consumed by the buzzing silence, until her stomach growling broke that. It wasn't just a simple growl either; it was a treacherous, barking sound that demanded to be acknowledged.

"Claire," I said slowly. "When was the last time you ate?" I was asking, but somehow I knew it'd been a while. It didn't surprise me, I knew her mother. It was probably why I had taken her with me, which, when I thought about it, could lead to some legal problems. She wasn't mine, she was in no way related to me, but when I went into her apartment and found her mother dead in her bed, having overdosed it was all I could think to do for the young girl. I'd already planned the trip, though. I'd taken time off, rented a Ford pickup, and packed some bags – I was looking to spend some time with my roots, but never intended on having a tag-along.

I'd known Claire for quite a few years. She was my neighbor in the apartment complex. She was always wandering around, and I came to know her mother as well – negligent, abusive, uncaring. It wasn't my place to rid Claire of her only living relative, so I didn't, but I often invited her over to join me at my meal times. I didn't want to like her, but she had a way with getting under my skin. Still, with my crazy work schedule I wasn't always around to keep an eye on her. She'd just lost her mother, but she wasn't acting like it. I was waiting for that to hit her, because it would. I'd done a psychiatric rotation last year during my first year working at Johns Hopkins Hospital. I knew it was going to happen. I knew that it needed to.

She didn't say anything, but her fleeting glance gave me the answer. "Mind if we stop at the grocery store?" We were pulling into my hometown now, and the familiarity of it was causing bouts of nausea to roll in. I hadn't been here since I was fifteen, back when my father was alive.

"Sweet Georgia," Claire murmured, her head halfway out the window. I smiled as I pulled into the parking lot of the Trader Joe's. There were a few cars there, but it wasn't nearly habited as I thought it would be. There were plenty of people walking the sidewalk, heading home no doubt as it was nearing five o'clock. We hit the ground, and did the shopping that was necessary, probably over-shopped. I was never very good at food shopping. We'd picked up the essentials first: milk, eggs, bread, and the ingredients for some old fashioned sweet tea. We practically cleared out the snack section, filled up with different meats that would do well on the grill, and then finished with the accessory foods.

"Racked up quite the dollar," Claire commented as we were loading the bags into the car. She stopped what she was doing to look directly at me. I shrugged my shoulders. My financials were of no concern to her. "I always knew you were rich." She said the word like it was a fantasy term; the way someone might say _witch _or _vampire._

"I'm not rich," I fired back at her, pushing the cart towards the line of its siblings near the building. "I'm well off, there's a difference. And I wasn't always."

"Then why do you live where we live?" I climbed back into the driver's seat, waiting till she was buckled in before I backed out and took off towards my father's home. I thought about her question but couldn't think of an answer. When I'd gotten the apartment, I'd been a medical student, struggling to pay for school. I'd worked numerous part-time jobs trying to cover my expenses and the cheap apartment was all I could afford at the time. I'd thought about moving when I was making a sufficient paycheck, but I'd decorated and refurnished instead, deciding to stay close to Claire. I'd always been weary of her mother.

"It's late, how about I just order us a pizza?" I asked her picking up my phone out of the console. Claire nodded in agreement. "Any toppings?" She shook her head. "Yeah, me neither. Do me a favor and search for a pizza joint in the area." I handed her the phone as I focused on driving, and she did as I told her to. When she found one she handed me the phone and I called the place, ordering one large pizza with extra cheese, wings, and a liter of cola.

The house was just as I remembered it, just as I'd left it. I had the key, insisting on keeping the place even when my mother was ready to sell it and reap the "little cash" she claimed it'd run for. It didn't look any different then I remembered. Built right on the bank of a river, it was strong, and sturdy, having stood plenty of storms. The porch creaked as we climbed it; I let us inside and locked the door behind me. Everything was the same there, too. The furniture was dusty, but still in good condition.

I went to turn some lights on in the living room, and kitchen, before gathering all the groceries with Claire. I had to turn the old fridge back on; it puttered, puttered, and then started up like the reliable piece of metal it always was. I filled ice trays, put away the perishables, and then stocked the cabinets.

"How long's it been since you were last here?" Claire was sitting at the small breakfast nook, looking out the sliding door into, what was now, almost complete darkness. I looked out there too, remembering the stones I'd laid out from the back deck to the river when I was a young girl. And my father's old motorboat flipped over in the grass.

"A while…a long while." She looked at me expectantly. "Over ten years." Claire looked like she was going to say something but there was a hard knock at the door that stopped her.

"I'll get the plates," she said instead as I grabbed my wallet from my satchel. I pointed to the cabinet they were in before heading to grab the food.

"40 Devron Road…Clarke?" The pizza guy looked down at the receipt in his hand; he was young by the looks of it. I nodded my head. "Uh, its $16.49." He handed me the pie with a box on top, the wings no doubt. I gave him what was in my wallet, a twenty and some singles.

"Keep it."

He handed me a plastic bag with the bottle of cola in it. "Thanks."

I took it from him, working hard to juggle it all in my arms. "No problem. Have a good night."

He grinned, turning down the porch. "Yeah, you too."

Spending the week at my old home was like reliving memories. As I walked through the halls of my childhood home, I found myself walking through our camping trips, our mornings on the boat fishing, the horse back riding, the trips into Atlanta – everything. I could tell that the small vacation was doing some good for Claire, too. The first night, I listened to her through the wall of my dad's bedroom as she cried, undoubtedly mourning her mother's life. But as the days progressed, she livened, and grew to enjoy the south.

"Morning," I called to her as I passed the living room to the kitchen. She was sitting in the old couch, huddled in a crocheted blanket as she stared at the old television. It got maybe ten channels, at best.

"You gotta' see what's on the news. They're talking about some virus that's spreading. They said it's already taken the tri-state area."

I grabbed some milk from the fridge, and two bowls from the cabinet. "Come in here, and have some breakfast."

Claire surfaced. "Didn't you hear what I said? Everyone's getting sick. You're a doctor, don't you care?"

"Of course I care, but I'm in Georgia, what am I going to do?" I poured some Frosted Flakes, filled the bowls with the milk, and stuck a spoon in each before joining Claire at the small breakfast nook.

"They said everyone's getting really sick, really fast. They said something like, about it being an epidemic and that it passes by fluids or something. It sounds bad. What if I have it?" She was looking at me, her brown eyes wide.

"You don't have it, whatever it is. But I'll give it to you, if you don't finish your breakfast: eat." She didn't say anything more but I could tell she wasn't convinced about whatever it was that was going on. We were heading back to Baltimore today, and I wanted to get out on the road soon, considering it was quite the car ride. I sent Claire to the bathroom first to shower, while I finished packing up my things. The last time I left this place I hadn't had a chance to bring anything with me, that wasn't going to be the case this time.

I'd been going through my dad's things all week. I had found the compass he used on all our camping trips, a box of his hunting knives, and some old photographs of us together. And that was just by a quick run-through of his things. While Claire was in the bathroom, I went outside to the shed to get the fishing gear. I knew that it was of no use to me in Baltimore but I wanted it anyway, just to have in my apartment as a memory of him. I was surprised to find a bag of guns in the shed as well. I always knew my dad had some guns for when he _really _went hunting, but there was a large assortment in the bag along with ammo. They had to be disposed of properly, I decided. I had a gun license, but had only registered a handgun, which was in a lockbox in my apartment.

When I finished loading my findings in the Ford, I went back inside, and waited in my room for Claire to finish. I was lying on my bed with my phone in my hand. I had a few messages from my coworkers about the status of my patients, and a missed call from my friend Devon. I called her back, but got her voicemail.

While I was showering, my phone rang again. I poked my head out of the curtain, reaching for it. As expected, it was Devon. I picked up, immediately putting it on speaker. "Clarke, you there?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Where are you? Are you at work?" Her voice was oddly, and alarmingly, frantic. And Devon was a considerably calm person. She had to be; her job called for it. She was an army medic; she had attended Johns Hopkins with me, and then was directly deployed to Afghanistan after graduation. As far as I knew, she was still there.

"No, I'm at my dad's place in Georgia. Why? Where are you?" Maybe she was back in Baltimore, and looking to meet up. I didn't know. Setting the phone down on the toilet lid, I turned the shower off and stepped out, grabbing a towel.

"You're in Georgia!" Her voice rang through in a harsh cry.

"Yes," I said again, slightly annoyed now since she wasn't answering me. "Where are you?"

"I'm in New York. Have you been watching the news?"

I furrowed my brows, tightening the towel around my body before picking the phone up and walking out with it. "What're you doing in New York?"

"I guess you haven't been watching the news. I was flown in yesterday. Listen, I don't know how to explain this and what I'm about to tell you is going to sound crazy but you need to listen, listen like the level-headed doctor you are, not like the know-it-all doctor you tend to be."

"I resent that."

"There's a disease. The government has no idea how it started, where it came from. Some claim it started in the city, but the reports are all over the place. This disease is extremely infectious, and inevitably kills you. There's no cure for it. Are you following me?"

"Yes, I follow you. I did graduate medical school. I've seen incurable cancers, AIDS, and other illnesses. I know what you're talking about."

"No, you don't, Clarke. Not until you see it. This isn't a normal oh I'm sick and dying disease. The people who get infected are dying but they aren't _staying_ dead. They're coming back from the dead, and that's how it's spreading. They're…they're _cannibalistic_. They didn't bring the military in just to sit and watch. They've got them killing everyone. People who are infected, and those that have come back."

I had made it to my room but now my feet were planted. I felt my blood run cold. "What do you mean…_cannibalistic_?"

"They're eating each other, Clarke. They're coming back from the dead, but they aren't alive. All they know how to do is eat other people. And once you've been bitten you're infected. I've been taking care of all these people and no matter what I give them they all just keep dying. And sometimes it's like five minutes, others its like hours, but they always come back and they're not human when they do."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. What she was telling me…it couldn't be true. But, then, why would she lie about something. "Let me get this straight," I spoke slowly, as I sat down on the edge of my bed. "There's some sort of disease spreading by…_bites _that is killing people…and bringing them back to life…only when they come back…they only want to…_bite _people."

"Yes, essentially. But if you get scratched you can be turned also. It's not so black and white. If you get the disease, either by being bitten or scratched, you get a fever, die, and then come back. If they eat you to the point that you die, then you come back. And there's something else…" Devon went silent on the other line.

I held my breath for a second, and then let it go. "What else?"

"Well, I was treating some soldiers; they were pretty banged up, but none of them had any bite or scratch marks. First it was John; he died from a stroke in the night. Before we could remove him, he turned. There was another patient, Felix, he lost his leg and his other one had a bad infection. We needed to amputate, but he didn't want us to. Infection went to his blood, he was gone within the day. And then he came back."

"What are you telling me, Devon?" My tone was gravely.

"No matter how you die, you still come back as one of them. Everyone is carrying the infection. It's just dormant." I didn't respond. I couldn't. It felt like I had swallowed my own tongue.

Finally, I said, "How dangerous are these things?"

She sighed down the phone. "It's bad. If you know what's going on, one or two of them attacking you isn't so hard. You have to cut off the brain – bullet, knife, smashing, it doesn't matter – killing the brain kills them. But I've seen groups of them taking people down. Nobody knows what's really going on, and the governments trying to hide it. They're going to tell you to go into the cities, to find military camps, but I'm telling you its safer outside the city, where it's less populated. Shit's hitting the fan fast. Last I heard the whole coast was being overrun."

There was some shouting on her end.

"Listen, I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I know more."

"Okay."

"Be safe, Clarke."

"You too." I ended the call, and set my phone down beside me. I was about to get up and change when Claire walked in, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"I heard everything."

I heaved a breath. That wasn't how I wanted her to find out. "Go get your shoes on."

Claire crossed her arms over her chest; the fashion emitted a stubborn attitude. "Where are we going?"

I was moving towards my duffle bag and pulling out some clothes when I snapped, "I won't tell you again." She made a sound of annoyance before backing out the room. I dressed quickly feeling that she may storm back in any moment. She waltzed in moments after I was finished.

"Where are we going?"

I grabbed my keys off my nightstand, shoved my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, and started out the room. Claire followed, hot on my heels. "We're going to get provisions." She didn't question it, but climbed into the driver's seat of the pickup truck as I locked the doors, and followed suit.

"What's that mean?" she asked when I was seated and turning the car on.

"It means…" I faltered. I wasn't sure what it meant. I wasn't sure what anything meant anymore. "It means we're not going back to Baltimore – not yet, at least. Not until things clear up, and the military gets a handle on whatever's going on. So I need to go food shopping again, and buy clothes. You didn't really bring much with you."

She turned in her seat, facing out the window, murmuring something, which I just made out to be: "Didn't really have much to bring."

* * *

AN: Slow start but the next chapter will definitely have all our favorite characters, hope you enjoyed it!

**ORIGINAL CHARACTERS: **Gracelynne Clarke is portrayed by Deborah Ann Woll, Claire Sumner is portrayed by Mackenzie Foy, and Devon Frampton is portrayed by Olivia Wilde


End file.
